


hang a shining star upon the highest bough

by elizaham8957



Series: Twelve Days of Stydia Christmas 2017 [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future, Holidays, Lydia puts an end to that very quickly, Mistletoe, Sorry Not Sorry, Stiles owns too many Star Wars ornaments, it's almost obscene, just so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 07:44:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13072335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: “Stiles,” Lydia said, and he could sense the apprehension in her voice. “I really don’t think it’s going to fit.”“It has to fit,” Stiles insisted, squinting at the doorway. “I measured.”“Yeah,” his girlfriend said, shooting him a doubtful look. “You measured the ceiling. Not the doorway.”“Lydia, we are getting this Christmas tree in the apartment, so help me god.”





	hang a shining star upon the highest bough

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays everyone!! The countdown is now officially halfway over. 
> 
> First off, this fic makes, like, the SLIGHTEST reference to [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11955693) I wrote a while back. You most definitely do NOT have to have read that one for this to make sense, but if you want to, you totally can. 
> 
> The title is from Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. I'd love to hear what you think!! I'm stilesssolo on twitter and tumblr if you ever want to chat :)
> 
> Enjoy!

“Stiles,” Lydia said, and he could sense the apprehension in her voice. “I really don’t think it’s going to fit.” 

“It  _ has  _ to fit,” Stiles insisted, squinting at the doorway. “I measured.” 

“Yeah,” his girlfriend said, shooting him a doubtful look. “You measured the  _ ceiling.  _ Not the doorway.” 

“Lydia, we are getting this Christmas tree in the apartment, so help me god,” he declared. “Here. Help me turn it. I think it’ll fit if we go this way.” 

Lydia may have been doubtful, but she did help him maneuver their newly-purchased Christmas tree into the apartment, pine needles scattering everywhere in the process. “We really didn’t need to get a tree this big,” Lydia said, holding the tree steady as he screwed the base into the trunk.

“Uh, yeah we did,” Stiles rebutted, crawling out from under the tree and standing up to face her. “This is our first Christmas living together. We are going  _ all out.”  _

“Funnily enough, I gathered that, from the decorations,” she said, smirking softly at him. Stiles grinned proudly, because the collection of decorations they had in the apartment was  _ impressive.  _ The look on Lydia’s face had been priceless when she had come home from work to see the boxes upon boxes stacked in the living room.

“Christmas was always my mom’s favorite holiday,” Stiles had explained, and her expression had grown inexplicably soft. “My dad and I didn’t really celebrate for a couple years afterwards. But now, it feels like… I’m keeping her with us, you know?” 

“I know,” Lydia had responded, winding her arms around his neck, pulling their bodies together. They’d spent the entire weekend decorating, every inch of the apartment covered in Christmas decor. 

“Do we even have enough ornaments for this tree?” Lydia asked, hands on her hips, surveying the pine in front of them. It was almost as tall as the ceiling— he was probably going to have to trim that top branch to get the star on top. 

“If we don’t, we’ll go get more,” Stiles said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head. Stiles  _ loved  _ doing that— she was literally a head shorter than him without her heels. They’d been dating for over two years now, had been living together since June, but he still loved the little moments like this, when Lydia was so casual and vulnerable with him. She didn’t have to put up her walls around him anymore; she could just be her. And the fact that she was so comfortable around him still made his heart speed up, years and years later. 

“Of course,” he added, pulling her closer, “we  _ totally  _ would have enough if you let me hang up all my Star Wars ornaments.” 

“Look,” Lydia said, turning in his arms, fixing him with a no-nonsense glare. “I love you. And I am willing to sit in line at a movie theater for three hours next Thursday night to see  _ The Force Awakens  _ on opening night with you. I was willing to accept the R2-D2 in a Santa hat that you wanted to put in the windowsill.” She paused, arching an eyebrow at him. “But I am  _ not  _ willing to sacrifice the aesthetic of our very first Christmas tree for your literal  _ boxes  _ of Star Wars ornaments.” 

“But—” he tried, making a face. Lydia had none of it, though, shaking her head. 

“Nope. You get to pick  _ ten  _ that go on the tree. And that is me being  _ generous.”  _

Stiles sighed overexaggeratedly, because he could make a scene all he wanted, but this was Lydia. He was physically incapable of saying no to her. They both knew who would win this battle. 

“And the Darth Vader tree topper is not even an option,” she said, patting his chest. “There is going to be a star on top of our tree, and that is that.” 

Stiles groaned, tipping his head back in mock aggravation. “Okay,  _ fine.  _ Whatever you say.” She laughed, rising up on tiptoe to kiss him briefly. Stiles grinned, pulling her back in, kissing her longer, and she smiled against his lips. 

Lydia put on Christmas music not long afterwards, and they got to work on decorating their tree. She did most of the decorating, in all honesty, as Stiles was more inclined to dance goofily to the songs, which made Lydia laugh in between hanging ornaments.

_ “Stiles,”  _ she reprimanded as he almost flung an ornament across the living room, but despite the exasperation in her tone, there was no mistaking the fondness shining in her eyes. “Careful, you’re going to break something.” 

He handed over the ornament that had almost lost its life, smirking as she looped a hook onto it and hung it from a branch. The tree looked really good, he had to admit— Lydia had an eye for this, which came as no surprise. His selected Star Wars ornaments were scattered among gorgeously painted glass balls, their small collection of sentimental ornaments dotted in between. There was the little owl with a diploma he had gotten Lydia for her graduation in June, and the palm tree one from the vacation they’d taken together this summer, and the Mickey Mouse one from the day they’d gone to Disneyland last year. The star they’d picked out together online shined on top of the tree, the silver metal sparkling from the Christmas tree lights. 

Lydia leaned over to the box filled with ornaments, pulling out another one— the Empire State Building, set inside a Christmas wreath. “I forgot we bought this,” she said, but instead of walking towards the tree to hang it, she stepped back towards Stiles, leaning into his side. “We got this in April.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, nodding, eyes trained on the ornament in her hand. “That’s when I asked you to move in with me.”

“I know,” Lydia said, tilting her head to meet his eyes. “That’s why we bought it. And now look at us. We have our own apartment.” 

“And our own Christmas tree,” he agreed, kissing her forehead quickly. She smiled, moving away from him to hang it on a branch. Stiles watched, eyes skimming over all the other ornaments on the tree. They didn’t have a lot of sentimental ones; not yet, anyways. He knew that there would be more. Next year they’d have another year’s worth of memories to hang on the branches, and the year after there would be even  _ more.  _ He could see it, ten years from now— a bigger tree, a bigger apartment. Less space between the pretty glass balls, the gaps filled with special ornaments from all their adventures together. More graduation ones. More vacations. One for the dog they’d get eventually. One for Lydia’s Fields Medal. One for their first Christmas as a married couple. Maybe one that read “Baby’s First Christmas” on it. It was clear as day to him, his life with Lydia. He still had two more years of school, she was still figuring out what she wanted to get her master’s degree in, taking a year off to work in the field down in DC to be with him— but the one thing Stiles knew, above all else, was that wherever he went in life, he wanted Lydia to be there with him.

“Wait a minute,” Stiles said, unfreezing and joining Lydia next to the box of ornaments. “Yes! I knew it was in here.” He leaned over, plucking the Mets ornament she’d bought him at the game they’d attended that same weekend in NYC, back in April, and Lydia laughed fondly. 

“Okay, we can hang up the Mets one too.” 

The tree was finished not long after, and Lydia curled up next to him on the couch, the lights from the tree twinkling and bathing the living room in a warm, Christmassy glow. “You did a good job,” Stiles told her, one arm slung around her, her head resting on his shoulder. She grinned softly at him, and he couldn’t help it; he leaned down, kissing the tip of her nose quickly. 

“Oh, that reminds me,” Stiles said, smirking, and he could tell from the look in Lydia’s eye that she already knew he was up to something. “I picked up something else at the tree nursery today.” 

“Oh, god,” Lydia said, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder, laughing into his shirt. “What did you do?” 

Stiles laughed, producing the little sprig of mistletoe he’d purchased when she wasn’t looking, tied up with a red ribbon. Lydia rolled her eyes affectionately, fixing him with that look that perfectly illustrated how ridiculous she thought he was and how much she loved him all in one.

“It seems so innocent when it’s not being used to poison one of our werewolf friends,” she said, arching an eyebrow. Stiles nodded, because there would always be that little part of his brain that wouldn’t be able to see anything but Lydia struggling not to scream on Deaton’s clinic table as the vet plugged up the hole in her head when he saw the plant. 

“Luckily, neither of us are werewolves,” he told her, arm tightening around her shoulders. “So there’s really no good reason as to why you shouldn’t kiss me right now.” 

She grinned at him, leaning in and pressing her lips against his, one hand carding through his hair as she sighed into his mouth. “Are you going to use this as an excuse to coerce me into kissing you all week?” she asked against his lips, her nose nudging his. He smiled, breathing her in, his eyes still closed. 

“Like you need coercion,” he responded, recapturing her lips with his, still holding the mistletoe above them. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” Lydia told him, grinning into the kiss, her hands warm on either side of his face. Stiles grinned, thinking of just how much he loved her back. 

“Yeah,” he told her. “I am.” 


End file.
